Lessons Learnt and Surprises Had
by EleanorKate
Summary: Set assuming that Trixie and Tom get engaged again, Shelagh, Trixie and Chummy have a girls night and the gents are forced into exile with Freddie and Angela. A few revelations, shocks and declarations go by... NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

"So do you know what all this raging secrecy is about?" Patrick asked as he gently placed Angela on the floor of the Noakes' living room onto a blanket that had been that had been stationed tucked inside Freddie's play pen. His comrade for the evening was standing just inside the doorway shaking his head having let the pair into the house barely two minutes before.

"No" Peter replied with a brief laugh as he leant on the door frame as the little girl settled down. "Not a first clue and I daren't guess to be frank...". Actually, it was more like 'don't want to guess'.

Patrick frowned, folding his arms across himself as he had been downright suspicious ever since he heard whispers of it last week, seeing Angela pick up one of Freddie's bears and hug it to her chest. "I know it was something to do with the wedding" he began, straightening up and going to unbutton his mackintosh, recalling what transpired to be a very brief conversation that his wife deliberately cut short before he could even think. "We got that far at least..."

Peter laughed quickly. "You were lucky. All I got from Camilla was would I mind if she went to out for a few hours tonight and to make sure Fred has his antibiotics before she gets back.…" That particular task had been undertaken; the poor boy so used to it now that he just submitted to the dropper that was pushed into his mouth with barely a whimper. Peter had got it over and done with as soon as he could as the last thing he needed, knowing that they were having visitors, was to do it closer to Freddie's bedtime otherwise he knew he would have no end of trouble putting him down.

"How is his ear?" Patrick asked as he took off his coat.

"Well he's stopped looking like he's ignoring me when I speak to him and he's stopped pulling at it so I suppose that's a good sign", Peter replied with a shrug; Camilla already having explained that to him a while ago that it was a sign he was in pain and it was that that had caused her to take him to see Dr Turner in the first place; all the signs there he had picked up an infection and indeed he had.

"Sounds like he's on the mend" Patrick offered, noticing Fred appear from behind his father. "Speaking of which…." he said nodding towards the boy as Peter felt him brush past his trouser leg. He'd been sitting on the bottom stair; insistent that the only place he wanted to play for the last half an hour or so was in the hallway but he had clearly decided that he now intended to greet his guest. Tottering in in his brand new - hand sewn and rather shockingly bright red - dungarees, Freddie was entirely intent on ignoring both his father and his General Practitioner and headed towards Angela who was now chewing on the bear's foot and watching the two men tower over her as they talked.

"Come on then Freds…" Peter said, following him and lifting the boy from the back as he swung his legs over the side of the playpen. "You keep Angela company". He stood Freddie down and the pair started chattering away; or at least the boy just seemed to be talking at Angela who was babbling back at him but they were having quite the conversation it seemed.

"His speech is coming on leaps and bounds I see" Patrick offered as the two men looked over their children.

Peter nodded, smiling as Freddie began to order Angela around to play with the blocks that were in the corner of the playpen. "It was one of the things Camilla was concerned about after, you know, but no, he seems to be doing alright". What he didn't say was that Camilla had been watching the boy's developmental signs like a hawk and as she hadn't said anything to the contrary, Peter assumed that he was walking, talking, seeing and hearing as he should. Not that would have mattered though. He'd have been loved and kept at home with them regardless.

"Good" Patrick replied, pleased knowing what horrors it would seem that Freddie had entirely avoided. "She's getting bigger by the day too. I've no idea where time goes anymore. Seems like yesterday when we brought her home" he concluded wistfully, those memories still as clear as day with Shelagh laying the little one in the hastily purchased cot that stood at the bottom of their bed. Correction; still stood where they would still watch her sleep, not quite believing she was actually there and theirs.

"I'd agree with you with that", Peter responded; grateful that Freddie, and Camilla, were home for all very different reasons. "Time goes too fast. All we ever seem to do is work". He paused for a moment. "Didn't you say you were looking at opening up a Sunday surgery too?" he asked, having a blue block handed up to him by his son. "Thank you Freds", he said, smiling at him and brushing his palm affectionately over the boy's blonde hair, getting his son's newly learned phrase - 'Daddy ta too' - trilled back in return as the boy sat down again. Angela had now abandoned the damp-footed teddy bear and was chewing on a wooden block. 'She must been teething', Peter thought.

"Yes" Patrick responded having considered the idea over and over again. "It crossed my mind, but I need an evening off every so often so that one's gone on the backburner. Shelagh's not too keen. Neither's Tim actually" he conceded. 'Not too keen' was an understatement and on reflection, Patrick had decided that when it came to it, she was right. He was barely at home as it was, so bringing precious Sundays into it would now allow him, or them, a moment it seemed so the thought was firmly placed back in its box.

"You do realise we aren't going to get much of a 'night off' with those two?" Peter noted, nodding at both children.

Patrick smiled. "They stick together like glue at nursery".

Peter knew that already. Many a time he had seen them, 'sharing' toys and babbling away to each other with only the occasional crossed word and so far no fisticuffs. "They should be alright. Beer?" Peter asked, strolling away into the kitchen, stretching out his hand to take Patrick's coat with him to hang up; the blue block handed to him by his son being pushed into his trouser pocket.

"Love one. Cats away and all that" Patrick smiled, walking after him, taking one last glance at the children who were still chattering away. "Well" he realised, "while the cats are up at Nonnatus…."

"Nonnatus?" Peter replied; muffled as his head was stuck in the fridge. "Haven't they've gone to the Vicarage?" he continued, straightening up and going to fiddle in the top drawer for a bottle opener. "I'm sure I heard one of them say Tom was up in Birmingham for something or other and Trixie had the keys so they were going there instead?"

"Probably sensible!" Patrick remarked, taking the bottle that was proffered towards him. "Why there though?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Two married woman and one that's about to get married? I daren't think they'd want Nuns floating around. It could be all perfectly civilised but with the amount of whispering that's been going on and the fact _you_ thought they were at Nonnatus and _I_ thought they were at the Vicarage…."

"Hmmmm yes…Probably why we've been dismissed too" Patrick responded, sitting down with a sigh. "Mind you would I want to be a fly on the wall at that gathering?" he asked, eyes opening wide for a moment, wondering about it for all but a millisecond. "Actually no, I don't what to know!"

Peter laughed as the two bottles clinked in toast. "You and me both!"

Just as the Police Officer sat down there was a knock on the front door and he frowned quickly. "Expecting more company?" Patrick asked.

Peter shook his head and put his beer down on the table. "Not as far as I know!" he remarked walking out of the kitchen, briefly looking over to Freddie and Angela who were still playing rather civilly; Angela happily chewing away as she watched her companion, who seemed really rather quite busily occupied in stacking block on block on block; her deep blue eyes following his every move.

Patrick heard the door open and a brief conversation and certainly more than one pair of feet walking along the hallway, wondering if it was the police officer's wife and the evening out had come to a rather drastic end. Instead, Peter arrived followed by Tom, a leather holdall slung over his shoulder that he dumped down on the floor out of the way by the door.

"You're meant to be in Birmingham!" Patrick remarked, turning around in his chair.

"I know" Tom replied, taking up a seat on the opposite side of the kitchen table as their host gestured for him to sit down. "The meeting I had for tomorrow was cancelled so I decided to come back down early. I went to the Vicarage but was turned away on the step. Your wife…," he directed to Peter, gesturing loosely, "suggested I come here. It was either sit with Sister Monica Joan or wander the dark and lonely streets otherwise…" Tom shrugged in defeat.

"What happened with her the other day?" Patrick asked, suddenly recalling the events of last Thursday week. Sister Julienne had mentioned in a roundabout way what there had been more trouble but she had been rather vague about it too. They had already had some rather serious conversations about Sister Monica Joan's care these past few months and it could well be that Sister Julienne wanted to avoid another, hence what the doctor felt was a quick glossing over of whatever the incident had been. Shelagh had had no idea and it wasn't until the vicar mentioned her, that Patrick had remembered asking his wife about it.

"She went walkabout as far as I know" Tom replied, having seen the Police cars outside Nonnatus as he walked past and the huddles of gossiping women at all the activity.

"Hmmm" Peter replied, putting an opened beer in front of the vicar. "One of the lads found her sitting on the edge of one of the dock walls; dangling her feet over, swinging her legs like a child singing something or other. If she'd toppled in or fell when she was trying to get back up…." Peter didn't need to finish the sentence. "Every time she goes off, its usually the market or the churchyard or at worst that bit of the shore where the tide never comes in, but those docks are dangerous places". There was God knows what in that water - disease, pestilence - and it was beyond cold. If she fell in...

"Dementia is a tough old beast", Patrick mused, interrupting Peter's thoughts. "I know Shelagh says they can't keep her chained up but one of these days it's going to end in disaster. They need more professional care for her. Someone who will be able to keep an eye on her day in day out".

He saw the other men nod as Peter sat down, before the latter had a sudden thought. "You can drink, can't you?" he asked Tom.

"I can" Tom replied, lifting up the bottle and taking a mouthful and relaxing as the cool liquid slithered down his throat. He needed it after that train journey. "Just not to excess to get drunk or drive other people into being drunk". Peter nodded and settled down. "One or two won't mean I have to renounce my vows quite yet" he concluded with a smile.

"Do _you_ have any idea what this Mother's Meeting is about?" Patrick asked Tom, hearing the children giggling, or rather Angela giggling and for a second wondering what they were up to. The question was still annoying him; particularly as Peter had come up with naught.

"The wedding" Tom offered, still frustrated that she couldn't have just let him in and he could go and hide upstairs. "Something to do with the dress I think. I think Trixie's getting your missus" he said to Peter, "to make it or at least they were talking about some ideas if she goes and buys it instead. I don't think she wants to impose too much with her having Freddie to look after but I can't see her _not_ asking".

Peter smiled and shook his head. "Well whatever it is, we'll probably find out far too late to have any say in it anyway!" He knew Camilla wouldn't or indeed couldn't say no if she was asked to help so it was almost inevitable.

The other two men laughed, still hearing Angela giggling at something on the other side of the wall in the sitting room. They both knew precisely what Peter meant though; Patrick perhaps more than Tom but as things were going he'd have plenty of time to learn!

As Angela's laughter quietened though, all of a sudden all three heard a thud and a cry...


	2. Chapter 2

"That cake looks like heaven!" Trixie whispered as she placed the tea tray down on the table as the two other women sat in the sitting room of the Vicarage; appropriated for the evening and only now a few minutes after Tom had been sent on his way.

 _"What you doing here?" Trixie had exclaimed as she opened the door, obstructing him as he was about to step over the threshold._

 _"Erm...coming home?" Tom had responded, really wondering what on earth was going on with the sitting room lights glaring and the fact that he was sure he could hear at least two other women talking; catching a Scottish accent and guessing it was probably Shelagh and then hearing Chummy's tones. He wasn't best pleased, after a brief discussion, that he had been turned out onto the street with a suggestion that he joined the other discarded men up at the Noakes' house but realistically, what choice did he have?_

"It's only shop bought, I have to confess" Shelagh offered with a smile, bringing Trixie back to the present, feeling really quite bad that she had to practically throw Tom out of his own house, but for this evening, needs absolutely must. "I went to that new baker on the corner of Saracen Street that's just opened? I bought an apple and blackberry pie there the other day and it was gone as soon as it was on the table!" She shook her head at the memory. There one minute...gone the next!

"It does look divine" Chummy replied, leaning over to look at the intricately carved lemon icing flowers that adorned the sponge. "One will have to pay it a visit. Peter never expects any home-made cakes anymore so a shop bought one will almost certainly pass muster!"

"You never made cakes Chummy!" Trixie teased as she turned over the cups with a clink to pour the tea as she leant over the low table.

"I did. One _did_ " she protested indignantly. "I made a cake for Peter's birthday and it did turn out really quite nice if you don't mind!"

"We'll take your word for it" Trixie smiled catching Shelagh's eye. Chummy gave up the fight even though she knew full well that her friends were teasing her. Peter had liked it and so had Freddie so that was all that mattered when it came to it. It wasn't burnt or didn't feel like rubber so it had been classed as an uproarious success.

"This was all rather intriguing" Shelagh offered, deciding she was better off changing the subject, thinking back at the telephone calls the three had had this past week. She'd had a few baking disasters herself with the new oven these past few months and knew how sensitive Chummy felt. "Secret meetings and all this cloak and dagger…"

"It's not really a secret" Trixie began, passing full cups to her companions. "I want to talk to you both about the wedding; about the dress" she smiled excitedly, pulling out a series of magazines from underneath her chair where she had hidden them. There was something else she needed to ask them both but that could wait until later and that was perhaps more the reason why she had chosen the Vicarage over Nonnatus. "I need your opinions".

Before them various magazines were spread out, turned over at certain pages of rather beautiful models dressed up to the nines in their wedding glad rags.

"One _does_ like that one" Chummy said, pointing to a rather sedate, quite plain, dress. It was something she would never wear but with Trixie's figure it would suit her perfectly with its cinched in waist and the way it would cling to her hips. "Perhaps if the skirt could be widened at the hem a little bit then it would be absolutely top hole".

"I know!" Trixie replied, her voice bubbling along. "I couldn't decide between that one…and this", she said, pulling another magazine up from the floor. "I know it's really rather like yours Shelagh but it's so beautiful with that scalloped neckline".

"Oh! It is.." Shelagh remarked, taking the magazine from her. "Shame you can't have two dresses!"

"I know" Trixie protested. "I do wonder if I could amalgamate the two and find some kind person to make it for me and then it will all perfect!"

"Was that a hint?" Chummy asked with a genuine smile as she looked over at the picture Shelagh shared with her.

Trixie's face dropped. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant it as a hint, no, honestly! I'd be ever so happy if you did but if you don't want to or can't then it's perfectly fine. I was going to ask Violet if she could help. You've got enough to do already Chummy".

"You did do such a magical job with mine!" Shelagh commented, so so grateful her friend had stepped in at the eleventh hour. She had been so nervous of them; of these people that she had shared so many years with already, just in a different guise, but when the suggestion had been made that their resident seamstress might just help she felt more acceptance that she had done in a long while. That grey silk dress had been put away for another time.

"Peter does say I could do it professionally if I didn't nurse" Chummy observed. He'd been quite impressed with her sewing skills over the years; the recipient of home-made pyjamas at all of their Christmas' and the fact she could sew a button on quicker than he could blink.

"Well then…." Shelagh replied, thinking it a very good idea if she really could.

"Let me speak to Peter. I'll think it over" Chummy concluded, taking the magazine as Shelagh handed it to her so she could have a closer look.

Trixie frowned as she lifted up a tea cup from the tray. "Since when did you need Peter's permission?"

Chummy took a deep breath and rested her hand on her belt and the magazine on her knee. She had been doing a lot of thinking recently. Sister Julienne mooting that promotion to her had only caused her to think even harder; particularly as she was party to the news that Trixie's temporary post would not be made permanent in the light of recent events. "One doesn't need his 'permission' Trixie," Chummy replied, trying not to be stern, "just we are so busy and with us just having moved house and everything…. One has learned that one might just need to step back for a while…."

"I know" Trixie confessed, swallowing carefully. After the debacle of the first time they were engaged, slow yet ongoing recovery and Tom's eventual forgiveness, she had come to realise that too. "Well, simply let me know, but don't feel as though you have to", she concluded with a genuine smile.

With one last admiring look at the pages in front of them, Trixie placed the magazines in a pile on the table, hesitating before she spoke again. "I know I said I wanted to talk about the wedding dress, and I do, but…."

"But?" Chummy asked, pressing her friend to carry on even though she could hear how nervous she suddenly sounded.

"Well, I just wanted to, well, you two are married already and I just wanted to know…well what it's like…." There that was it. Out of her mouth and yes, it still sounded childish and immature no matter which way round she said it. It was what happened the moment the ring went onto her finger that she wanted to find out about and having only two married friends; both Chummy and Shelagh seemed to be the best people to ask.

"What it's like?" Shelagh asked, confused by the question.

"Yes…" Trixie replied hesitantly. "We've lived with Nuns - sorry Shelagh - for years. Fred's been the only 'man in our life' and I know Peter was with us for a while but it's not the same as sharing a house with one."

"None of us knew what it was like to live with a man, old girl", Chummy replied, too many memories assaulting her. "Had no inclination whatsoever what it might be like one bit".

"You were practically living with Peter before you got married…" Shelagh remarked. Even though she was still within what Timothy had termed as her 'before Dad life' she had noticed that the nurse seemed to be spending less and less time at Nonnatus as the wedding grew closer.

"I didn't" Chummy replied, oddly hurt that there could be any implication of impropriety before they got married, until she realised just a second later that she was not one to talk and she dismissed the remainder of what she was about to say from the tip of her tongue.

"You did spend an awful amount of time up in Empson Street with him" Trixie replied. "I could count on one hand the amount of times you were around for tea and I did notice that Sister Julienne relaxed the curfew for you".

"Well, whichever, I don't think we can give you the recipe Trixie. Marriage doesn't have one" Chummy replied, even though she well and truly remembered her own worries back not so many years ago and could see precisely why Trixie asked the question. Strange, though, as her friend usually had so much confidence in herself that she had never thought that it was a question she would want answering.

"I just think you have to listen to each other" Shelagh offered, having considered the question over as the others talked. "Respect as well. Everyone is different and you just seem to find your way. That's one thing I learned. There is no book to help you. Whatever Patrick says goes. But I can't speak for anyone else". Shelagh looked across at Chummy willing her to carry on.

"Well... whenever Peter and I make a decision we do it together - at least on the little things and particularly over Freddie. He lets me have an opinion, or rather" she hesitated trying to find a better way of expressing herself "…he lets me articulate it even if he doesn't agree with me". She'd often wondered if it was half to do with the type of man her husband was. "But I suppose if he says 'absolutely no' then that's that. He's usually more right about things than me. More balanced" she confessed quietly.

"Patrick….." Shelagh considered. "Marriage means different things to him than perhaps someone younger. He's got 20 years on the rest of us and I know when Helen was alive; he worked, she stayed at home and that was the way it was".

"But you work now…." Chummy observed, seeing Shelagh nod her head. "That seemed to come fairly easily to him!"

Shelagh smiled. It had; that was true. "Yes, I think everyone realises that times are changing and he does have Timothy and me ganging up on him!" He had also obviously needed help in the surgery and that had perhaps been her higher motivation.

Trixie nodded carefully, considering what the other women were saying. "I know I should have listened to Tom more when we were first engaged" she stated, creasing her forehead at those memories she so very wished were not so vibrant. "Listened to everyone".

"You did rather run off with things" Shelagh replied. "The whole arrangements seemed to just spiral…" She was about to add 'out of control' until Trixie interrupted her.

"That's why I had to listen to Tom this time. I got carried away. That's what I wanted to ask you both. I appreciate its more than churches, orders of service or whether I would have my hair tied up or down; but all of these things were superficial. I think I only saw the surface before; not what I needed to find out about myself underneath".

"All I can say is that you just have to do what you think is best. Not just for you, but for both of you. It takes work, day in day out; give and take…." Shelagh replied.

"And just remember why you wanted to marry him in the first place. To be with him for the rest of your life. Thick or thin". Chummy surprised herself. She almost sounded wise; getting better at compromising and realising they had all the time in the world now. "There'll be bumps in all the wrong places and things will go wrong". She could see see Shelagh wholeheartedly agreeing. They had spoken over similar subjects themselves in the non too distant past and certainly held some secrets of each other's. "The sooner you realise that a perfect marriage doesn't exist, then the better off you will be. Long term".

Trixie nodded. "Thank you. You have helped". She picked up one of the magazines again, still admiring away, even though she could still see her own worries lined up in front of her.

"So what material do you plan to go for?" Shelagh asked.

"Well" Trixie began, gesturing at the picture. "White silk but have that top layer thing of lace _and_ long sleeves as its going to be winter".

"White?" Chummy questioned, the word coming out before she could think as she pressed the teacup to her lips. She did however see Shelagh's apprehensive look as Trixie nodded enthusiastically as she continued to flick through the magazines as the other women looked warily at each other. "I do like ivory but no, just white…." she concluded casually.

"We thought…." Shelagh started hesitantly, glancing back quickly over to Chummy for support and seeing it there. "We thought that you….."

"That I?" Trixie asked, head down and still smiling away at the pictures in front of her.

"We thought that that bridge might have already been crossed Trixie", Shelagh concluded, knowing she shouldn't have said it but she saw the nurse's head fly up.

"Wh..what do you mean?" Trixie asked a false, tense, smile arriving on her face. The other two could hear her voice shaking, even though they both knew that they were digging themselves a rather large hole that there was no way on earth they could now get out of even with each other's help.

"Well, that…." Chummy replied, looking quickly and seeing a brief nod from Shelagh. "The way you talk all the time and how you can be, well, around the chaps...well, we thought maybe, perhaps, you wouldn't be wearing white…."

The declaration slowly sunk in and for a second, there was an ominous silence.


	3. Chapter 3

"What did he do?" Patrick asked, seeing the red faced toddler being brought back into the kitchen by his father as he was perched on his hip; the doctor noticing a damp patch on the Sergeant's shoulder where the boy had been leaning and clearly crying.

"Over the side of the playpen" Peter replied, holding the snivelling boy close. "Camilla caught him the other day trying to do it and stopped him. Succeeded this time by the sound of it!" Peter sighed as he sat down with Freddie on his lap, trying to keep calm about it even though his heart was going ten to the dozen having found him in a screaming heap on the living room floor.

Patrick saw redness on the boy's knee, looking suspiciously like a carpet burn. "Let me have a look at that, shall I then Freddie?" He had just about managed to touch the boy's ankle; gentle experienced hands going to move his leg an inch off Peter's knee so he could see properly in the low kitchen light but his patient was having none of it.

"No!" Freddie replied through the remainder of his tears, pulling his leg away from the doctor with some speed. "Not!"

"Well at least it's nothing broken if he can do that!" Patrick remarked, sitting away from him as he was eyed up with nothing but fear. It wasn't the first time that a child had refused an examination so Patrick was by no means taking it as an insult that the little boy was just too frightened and most probably shaken by his sudden flight and inopportune landing. He could see it in his eyes. "He's probably quite shocked about that particular adventure!" Patrick remarked smiling at the boy. "It's a long way to fall, isn't it Freddie?"

The boy just looked at him out of the corner of his eye and snuggled closer to his father.

"Come on Fred" Peter encouraged, wiping tears away with his thumb; thinking it a very good idea that the doctor look at him. He had no idea whether he'd fallen head first or what although most of the damage seemed to be to his knee. "Freddie? You know Doctor Turner. He's Angela's Daddy. Remember?"

"No! No! No! No!" he cried, pushing his face into Peter's chest.

"Alright" Peter replied, calmly, wrapping his arms tighter around him, hoping Freddie couldn't feel his heart going. "Will you let Daddy have a look?" Peter knew it was an optimistic question as whenever he hurt himself he tended to only want Camilla. Daddy was good for playing with and provision of sneaky treats when Mumma had her back turned but sure enough he had his answer immediately.

"Mumma….." came the plaintive voice from the bundle wrapped up in his father's arms. "Want Mumma…"

"Mumma isn't here" Peter replied, leaning close to him head bowed so he could whisper to try and calm the boy. "She's with your auntie Shelagh at Tom's house tonight".

"Want Mumma an' Seela" Freddie responded, peeking out suspiciously at the doctor who was trying on his best sympathetic smile that was met with a watery glare; Patrick deciding that his doctorly duties were not at all welcome and the boy seemed responsive and didn't look like he had had a bop on the head.

"They aren't here Freds. Come on mate" Peter continued as the other two men sat back deciding not to interfere. "Daddy will have a very quick look and I won't touch". Ever so slowly Freddie raised his head from his father's shirt, red eyes looking around and surveying the three men. The boy sniffled and stretched his leg out towards Tom.

"Looks like you're the chosen one" Patrick remarked quietly as Tom shuffled forward in his seat, seeing the boy's tentative look and a nod from Peter that all was well and if Freddie had chosen him, then his father was in no place to argue. Tom leant carefully with his elbows on his knees, hands outstretched as a sign of peace.

"Are you going to let me have a look Freddie?" Tom asked, seeing the boy give a rather unsure nod as he started to chew on his fingers. "Right, shall we see then?" Tom continued with a smile as he held the boy's calf. "Now that's all that horrible carpet's fault isn't it? It's not too bad at all is it?" he ended, keeping his voice in barely a whisper so not to terrify him even more.

"Mumma kiss" Freddie mumbled through his chewed fingers which Peter swiftly removed from his mouth.

"Camilla does the 'kisses better' routine" Peter said clarifying his son's words. "Don't worry though…Mumma and Mumma alone. Mumma's not here Freds" he whispered again to the boy, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "He won't even let me do that….." he told the two other men with a quick shrug of the shoulders.

"Probably a good thing!" Tom remarked with a smile. "Are those tears going?" he asked, tickling Freddie gently on the belly.

Freddie sniffled again and wiped his cheek on the breast pocket of Peter's shirt and Tom was rewarded with rather a large smile. "Now that's better" he remarked seeing the little one grin again, not noticing that Peter had taken a quick look at his knee and come to the conclusion that it looked worse than it was. Bit of a clean-up and he should be alright although perhaps Mumma should have a look later herself just to be sure.

"I have to say" Patrick started as the Vicar and the toddler seemed to have reached an understanding. "I am most impressed".

"Considerably younger siblings" Tom replied, quite used to having to corral his brother and sisters around. "Chrissie - the youngest – she's only just thirteen now. Seen off many a scraped knee in my time I have!"

"He just likes to get to where his need takes him quickly" Peter remarked, checking that the tears had seemed to dry up and shifting his son around on his knee to make them both more comfortable. "Sometimes quicker than his legs will carry him. He's already had a black eye off our bedroom door".

"Tim was like that" Patrick replied, taking a sip from the beer bottle in front of him as he tried to trim down the examples he had of Tim's various accidents. "Knocked two milk teeth out on his grandma's back step, broke his wrist when he went sledging when I told him not to…fell head first downstairs when he was learning to walk….You've got all of that to come…" Patrick concluded, nodding towards Tom.

Children was not really a subject he had broached with Trixie in any real depth other than argument. He knew she had ideas of the quaint little cottage in a hamlet; the village vicar's wife with rosy cheeked children skipping off to the local school whilst she baked fairy cakes and the image made him uncomfortable. Not for the issue of children, certainly not, but by his still harboured desires to go into an inner city parish and help where he believed people needed it most. That may be another bump in the road that they had not yet found. Thankfully though, before he could mull it over very much longer, there was a very small saviour at the table.

"Drink….." Freddie announced, pointing at his father's bottle of beer that was an inch or two out of his reach.

"No Fred. Not beer" Peter responded firmly, pushing the bottle a good few inches further away, for fear it could get knocked over and him trying to take a sip without anyone noticing. Now that was something that Camilla would never forgive him for.

"Beer" Freddie repeated insistently, still gesturing at the moved bottle.

"Your wife is going to love you for teaching him that word…." Patrick remarked with a laugh. He had accidentally taught Tim some choice language in the past and it was only out of sympathy that he commented as he had certainly been there before.

"It's not the first time!" Peter responded somewhat casually. He'd managed to inadvertently teach him the B word a week or two ago and he remembered with horror his son repeating it in front of his mother when he dropped his cup and blackcurrant cordial pooled on the kitchen floor all over the tiles and his bare feet. _'O_ _ne supposes one ought to be glad he used it in the right context" she had said and that was the end of it._ "Besides…" Peter continued, looking down at his son,whispering in his ear. "Fred, what does grandma Reenie drink?"

"Gin" the boy replied bluntly.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "That was his _grandfather's_ fault".

"Wiv lemon" Fred added deadpan, still trying to reach out for one of the beer bottles; Tom's this time only for his hand to be firmly brought back by his father.

Peter tried not to laugh, even though the other pair were and failing to hide it. "How about milk and a Rusk then Freds? It's almost suppertime". Freddie scrunched up his face; always that way when he was thinking and nodded. "Say yes please" Peter added.

"Es pease ta Daddy".

"I might go and retrieve Angela. She might just try and copy him before we know it" Patrick said looking quickly at his watch. "She could do with her supper too. Do you think you can share your supper with Angela, Fred?" Patrick asked, hoping this time he might get more than a scowl in response.

"He will" Peter replied for him, standing up. "Do you mind taking him?" he asked Tom. "Just for a minute while I sort him out".

"Not at all" Tom responded as Fred was placed on his knee. With one less companion in the room Tom felt as though he could ask the question that had been torturing his mind these last few weeks; hearing Patrick talking to Angela in the other room. "What did you think having him would be like?" he asked, wondering if his own thoughts were somehow abnormal and this was why it had caused such an issue with him and Trixie.

Peter paused for a second just about to rip off the top another box of Rusks and turned back, leaning against the kitchen worktop as he thought the question over. "Not what it's turned out like!" he replied, hoping he didn't sound too jaded but the idea of Freddie had been so different to his reality – in some ways good - very good indeed - and in others not so good. Too many things that he had never spoken about invaded his dreams and they were the ones that, perhaps in time might fade, but were still now so vivid even over two years down the line.

"You do a lot for him". Tom had noticed that a lot once his mind had turned to engagements and weddings and the eventuality of children that Peter did seem to do a lot for Fred and did it happily. He hadn't been in Poplar when the boy was born but Trixie had told him long about about what happened and indeed how frightened they had all been for weeks after with their frail friend who always tried to do too much.

"I suppose…" Peter began, having not truly considered it at all, "but with Camilla being so ill after and everything; well, he and I are good mates. I couldn't not help. Camilla wasn't right for a long time after he was born. She might say she was, but she wasn't and well you do what you have to do don't you?"

Tom nodded and scowled as Peter turned back again towards the shelf for the bowls for the children as the cogs still continued to whirr. "Trixie has this….." he began, needing to speak to someone who might understand. "She has this idea that we can go and live in the countryside and bring up curly haired, blonde haired kiddies with bows in their hair and shiny shoes".

"Can't you?" Peter asked. There must be plenty of village vicars needed out there.

"I could, but if I applied to be transferred, I could go anywhere in the country. You do know I was offered to go up North?" he asked, seeing Peter nod as he wandered about the kitchen, mashing up Rusks in milk. "Well it was in a parish where poverty was worse than Poplar; much _much_ worse. I think I foolishly thought that as Trixie came here – to the East End – she might have that same ideal. I think I was wrong".

"Do you not want to stay in Poplar?" Peter asked as he placed the children's full bowls on the table.

"I could and I do, but there is so much work to be done elsewhere…." It had prayed on Tom's mind for hours at an end; how frustrated he might become with tea and biscuits and judging baking competitions or 'Who's grown the funniest shape marrow?' at the village fete and how he would be screaming internally at the pointlessness of it all.

Peter smiled. "That's what Camilla said about Sierra Leone. We only came back because of him" he said, gesturing towards Freddie. "She wanted him born in the East End. We were offered a place to stay longer but, all in all…."

"But you and Chummy wanted the same things" Tom insisted seeing in clear focus the gap that presented itself between him and his fiancee, even now, after all that has gone on, it was still there. Even with the changes that had gone about recently; the help Trixie had sought there was still that monster in the back of his mind.

"We did" Peter accepted, sitting down again as his son was passed back to him. "I liked Sierra Leone. I'd like to go back. So would she".

"Really?"

"Mmmm…" he replied. "In a few years. When the children are older but yes, go and do something in the world that feels worthwhile again".

"Newcastle isn't a million miles away" Tom considered. "I have to feel as though I am doing something effective. Do you see what I mean?" He didn't add that it was perhaps quite more overwhelming that anything – and he meant _anything_ – in his life.

Peter did actually agree, seeing Patrick with Angela in his arms come back into the kitchen and sit down. "When were out in Sierra Leone it was _hard_ work but yes, when you got home at night you'd actually feel like you'd achieved something. Sometimes in Poplar it's just yet another drunk or yet another teenage boy throwing stones at a window….but we were out in the middle of nowhere, trying to communicate with tribesmen and changing things".

"I thought I could change things when Helen and I moved to Poplar" Patrick noted, having half heard the conversation from the sitting room. "When I opened up the Maternity Home, I thought that might move the area forward. Give women choice and better healthcare". He paused very quickly realising what he had said and needing to clarify. "But I am not being disparaging to Sister Julienne and Nonnatus. They do an awfully good job but they struggle. Too little money, not enough staff".

"The clinic has made a difference though" Tom commented.

"Yes, I accept that" Patrick replied, receiving one of Fred's plastic spoons to his hand for Angela's supper. "I sometimes think I am just too impatient for improvement" he concluded as Peter handed the boy the spoon too.

"Do you think that's a wise move?" Patrick asked, scooping some of the mush up for his daughter seeing Freddie start to tuck in too.

"He's not too bad you know" Peter responded. "Getting better. Camilla's not had to wipe the walls down in a while". The other two laughed. "Mind you" Peter carried on. "God knows what it's going to be like when he has a brother or sister! I daren't think!"

Patrick just smiled. He was getting a very vivid reminder these days of just that thing.


	4. Chapter 4

"I.…" Trixie stuttered, feeling her pulse race nervously as she opened her eyes wide, wondering if she had just heard right. "I… Does everyone think like that? The Sisters? Anyone else?"

Shelagh looked anxiously across at Chummy again, wondering what they had uncovered with what had been an inadvertent comment. "Trixie…" she began, carefully thinking through her words as she sat forward slightly. "We didn't mean to upset you; you must know that but…." Shelagh stuttered for a moment and looked across for help again.

"You _are_ very chatty to the chaps old girl and you can be really quite... _forward_ " Chummy continued for her, trying to temper what she was saying. "We assumed…." She glanced quickly at Shelagh who had her hands clasped tightly together on her knee. "When I first came to Nonnatus there was never a Friday night when you didn't have a chap to go out with and well, apart from that fellow Alan, one doesn't really remember any of them lasting very long until Tom. There almost someone new every week and when we used to go to dance, your card would be filled as soon as we stepped through the door….one really started to wonder how you did it… all these chaps queuing up" Chummy concluded with a self-conscious laugh. In truth, she had been quite envious until Peter came along.

"We just thought that you were, well, perhaps the most experienced of all of us", Shelagh stated, trying to find a polite way of putting it but Chummy was right – she'd noticed it too. Shelagh could include herself in the 'us' now but even when she was wearing the veil she was not so blind as to see what was going on around her.

"Do people really think that?" Trixie asked again and the other two could see the panic in her eyes.

"We cannot speak for anyone else Trixie" Chummy responded, sitting up straight to make her point. "But you can't deny you did have rather a few different dates over the years and that does lend itself to …"

"You are wrong! Different dates doesn't mean it was anything more than a trip to the cinema or a dance or two" Trixie protested, feeling utterly embarrassed; perhaps not so much that her friends had spoken so frankly but out of shame that someone, anyone, stranger or friend alike could be thinking something like that and it had touched a nerve. "I have never….No, never!"

Shelagh glanced briefly up. She'd often seen Peter – long before Chummy came into his life or even to Nonnatus – or one of his colleagues standing stock still in the middle of the kitchen, staring at their boots as Trixie floated around them. "You did bat your eyelashes an awful lot at Peter's friend…what was his name?" Shelagh asked, her memory failing her. "The one that left to go over to Ireland to get married few weeks ago?"

"Norm…Norman" Chummy replied filling in the gap for her.

"Yes that was him. Constable Simpson", Shelagh replied.

"Did I?" Trixie asked, really starting to feel the alarm now now. If her friends thought she was free with her favours at least they were being honest in telling her; but what about the Nuns or her patients? Did Tom think that way too? Had he heard things? She looked down at her hands where her antique engagement ring now sat. "I don't think I realise half the time. None of them. Never. Not even close" she added quietly.

She wasn't going to mention that vile actor fellow. She knew Jenny knew and had no reason to believe her friend had breached her confidence. Reflecting now, had she led any of them on? Did she deserve his hand crawling up her leg touching her so intimately and without her consent? Was she just lucky that someone hadn't got the wrong idea already? What messages had she been giving him by what she saw of Trixie being Trixie? She thought she had reconciled that incident but now she was not so sure if the people closest to her thought she was no longer a virgin. Just some attention; that's all it was. A nice smile and some attention hoping this next one might be the love of her life that she so desperately wanted and indeed, needed to make it all go away.

"Then we believe you" Chummy concluded, taking a sip from her second cup of tea. "And as long as you know, and Tom knows, the rest of the world can swing".

Trixie sat for a second, her mind racing. "I know I can be flirty. I know I can be forward, but perhaps I don't realise that people can misconstrue that. That people think that I'm cheap".

"Now we never said that" Shelagh replied. All it takes is once after all; something that the two now married women understood.

"But you implied it" Trixie responded as realisation washed over her from head to foot and just how unsuitable some people could see she was for Tom. "I'm about to be a vicar's wife…."

"But that doesn't mean you have to change your personality. Perhaps…temper it. For Tom's sake" Shelagh said, trying to sound sympathetic. She was a quiet person and not one for speaking up unless so very comfortable and this evening had taken a turn in the wrong direction even though long ago she wished she had had the courage to ask the kind of questions that Trixie was now vocalising. "Pick and choose your moments perhaps".

Trixie frowned. "Is that what I'll have to do? Stop being me because I'm his wife?"

"No" Chummy replied shaking her head. "Not one bit, but you have to take him into account. My guardian used to tell me that if I got married that I had to see myself as a reflection of my husband. When Peter did his Sergeant's examinations he was interviewed and they asked him all kinds of questions about me, Nonnatus and Freddie. Asked what his plans were for his future and for his family and if they felt that he had his family's support". He daren't tell his commanding officer they planned to go back to Sierra Leone in a few years and he was going to join to Colonial Police permanently so for now it was building their family and the streets of Poplar.

Trixie nodded carefully. "Tom did say that someone from the Church Committee was dumbstruck when they learned he was marrying me. When he told them he was marrying one of the midwives from Nonnatus they thought he was marrying Cynthia or Jenny. Someone quiet; someone more suited to the responsibility being married into the clergy carries".

"He told you that?" Shelagh asked, really quite surprised, hands tight around her tea cup now, shocked to say the least.

"Yes" Trixie responded, before hesitating; all her magazines forgotten. "Well he didn't tell me. It was when we were arguing about it all the first time. It just came out. You pair are more fitting to be a Vicar's wife".

"One doesn't think I am old girl!" Chummy exclaimed. "If Mater had had her way I'd never have married Peter or anyone associated with Poplar. Never even have been in Poplar for that".

"Do you know I never really understood what changed" Trixie began; glad for the slight diversion onto another topic and for the glare to fade from her. "One minute you were so close and the next minute we didn't see him for weeks on end and then suddenly you were barely leaving his side again".

"It was simple" Chummy replied. "I realised I loved him and needed him and I had to do it to save myself. Make sure she couldn't interfere again. That Mater would have no choice but to let me have what I wanted". They were Jenny's words and they were spot on.

"That's cryptic" Trixie noted, not really realising that Shelagh had gone very quiet on the opposite side of the table.

"I.." Chummy began, noting to herself that she had walked right into a brick wall and the conversation had taken yet another awkward turn with this time the light be reflected on her. "Well let's just say I made a choice for myself and Peter and by the time that choice had come to fruition, it was too late for her to say otherwise and for _her_ reputation she would have had to agree to me marrying him". She hoped desperately that was all she would be called on to say, but she could see that Trixie had cottoned on.

"I knew it!" Trixie exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth, bells ringing and lights flashing. "You _actually_ did! All this talk of me and white wedding dresses! You sly old fox!" Trixie smiled, sitting back with her arms folded across her chest. "I think there was a very good reason why our Chummy here wore grey and blue to her wedding, don't you Shelagh?"

Shelagh narrowed her eyes. "I hate to say it Trixie, but that was a conclusion that Sister Evangelina and I came to over three years ago".

Chummy's head shot around feeling her cheeks burn and she almost couldn't ask the question. "You and Sister Evangelina?!"

Shelagh nodded. "But it's not a subject you talk about publicly and to be frank, if I remember Sister Evangelina's words correctly – 'Good for her! Doing something for herself instead of her mother!'" Her actual words, describing Lady Browne were slightly more terse and in fact almost insulting but she wouldn't be repeating them here for her friend's sake. The words 'frigid' and 'without a maternal bone in her body' were used and the then Sister had simply nodded and not said a word more.

"Yes well" Chummy began, taking a deep breath as she felt her stomach churn at her secret being out. "I had to show him how much he meant to me and how sorry I was and that was the only way one could think of doing so". A thousand carefully chosen words would not do this time. It had to be action.

"But you must have _wanted_ to too, surely?" Shelagh asked tentatively yet feeling guilty that she had made it known that her assumption had been correct and there had been gossip. Not that a Nun would call it gossip; but the same principle applied.

"Yes, yes one did", Chummy replied, still very much at peace with the decision that she had made. "But there was a better purpose than me".

"Well good for you" Shelagh responded, pressing her tea cup to her lips. "That was not for me I'd have to admit; too many promises I thought were broken already, but there is nothing wrong in doing what you want to do as long as you are sure". She had in truth put the conversation she had with Sister Evangelina to the back of her mind long ago as if there had been inappropriate behaviour it was not her place to interfere even though it would now seem that the Nurse and the Officer had been the souls of discretion.

"I want to walk down the aisle in white. It will be the truth and one in the eye for anyone that might question Tom's decision" Trixie responded. Perhaps that was her first step towards recognising that she had to work _with_ him these days and stand by his side, showing the world how united they were rather than run off with her own ideas. Show everyone how wrong they could be about her perhaps? There was a difficult pause for a moment until Trixie swallowed. "I am most terribly frightened of it all though. I don't know what to think about it all. About the _thing_ ".

"Oh" Shelagh replied. "That thing". She looked over at Chummy. She knew her friend could sometimes be like a bull in a china shop and hopefully she had caught Trixie's meaning too and might answer.

"Trixie…" Chummy began deciding to answer in the best way she could as she saw Shelagh sit back, almost absenting herself from the conversation. "One knows there's the old joke about putting your shopping list together or thinking about tomorrow's chores but…well, one tends to get too distracted to wonder about disinfecting the lino or scrubbing the oven".

"So it's not a chore on its own?" Trixie asked nervously. Too many things had run through her mind about all moments in her potential marriage, let alone these and when they piled up side by side, it was really quite overwhelming. She should expect to be apprehensive; that must be normal and she had far too many questions that remained unanswered.

"He treats me like one might snap in half with a breath of wind so even if one is not particularly on the same page as him…..one sometimes has no will to refuse", Chummy replied. That was a fair summation of the truth as far as it went, or rather as far as she would say.

"So are you happy you.…" Trixie asked, embarrassment reigning at the word, "….before you got married?"

"Yes. Entirely", Chummy responded confidently. She was after all. "One knows it's not the thing to do. One of the gels at school had a book that described it all as 'revolting' and _all_ men had obnoxious habits. One really had no idea what to think...but one is rather glad it was wrong".

"Shelagh?" the bride to be questioned, wanting the other woman's opinion and thoughts too.

"Petrified I think you could call it, but he's been married before so I knew I was in safe hands, so to speak. Don't be afraid to take your time but if you want to before, well, neither of us are in any position at all to criticise you. We both took some momentous decisions that were symbolic in their own way before we married. It's your choice and if he thinks anything of you he will respect whatever that choice is. It is us women that have to bear the burden of it after all". Notwithstanding her maternal state, she was speaking the truth and she could see Chummy nodding quietly to one side in agreement.

Trixie thought for a moment, wondering if her reputation was already in tatters that waiting or not, conclusions would be drawn about her and she could see the sideways looks already.

"Have you spoken to him about it?" Chummy asked, seeing Trixie shake her head to bring herself back to the present, thinking she might cut the cake in an effort to calm herself and change the subject; even if she was the one that brought it up.

"I think he just assumes that we wait". Trixie frowned for a moment, not knowing where to start if she was going to ask or even if it was her place to ask or even bring the subject up. "Did you talk to Peter about it?"

"Only after the event" Chummy replied sheepishly. "And it was him that pushed me about it. Probably should have at least warned him before as one thinks he just assumed we'd wait too but he knew this was about me trying to do what I wanted for a change. He just went along with it. Happily one might add!" 'To your relief old girl' her subconscious mind added quietly but then again what you were offering dear girl, what would you have done if _he'd_ said no? "Once that ring is in your finger you have to learn at the speed of light as whatever he wants on that side of the sheets goes. If you are after lessons Trixie; that is one".

Shelagh nodded. "That's true. Your duty and his right. That's what a woman in the Sanatorium told me. Please him and keep him happy I seem to remember too".

"You hear some people say it doesn't matter what the wife thinks or feels. If he wanted to force me he could" Trixie surmised. "He hasn't!" she added quickly seeing the two other women's apprehensive faces. "But it's the truth isn't it?"

"One does suppose. I can't speak of it personally" Chummy replied.

"Me neither" Shelagh added. "Patrick is a straightforward, honest man. It's strikes me that Tom and Peter are too".

"He is" Trixie replied, twisting the engagement ring around and around. "Truly he is. That's why I'm not good enough for him..."


	5. Chapter 5

"I wonder how they are getting on….." Patrick wondered as he dropped Angela's empty supper bowl into the sink; not thinking twice about the fact that Chummy would probably end up washing up when she got home.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again" Peter replied from his chair. "I really don't want to know!" On his shoulder Freddie was yawning away, sore knee seemingly forgotten, but Angela was wide awake and pulling at her father's tie which Patrick was unsuccessfully trying to fend off.

Peter glanced at this watch. It was approaching half past seven and certainly Freddie's bed time. "I might put him down" he said as the three men wandered back into the sitting room; the site of Freddie's altercation with the floor. "He's not going to last very much longer". A very tired boy waved his goodbyes to the Doctor and the Vicar as he was taken upstairs and Tom and Patrick sat down as they heard Peter trudge up the stairs.

"She's not for sleeping I see?!" Tom joked as Angela was bouncing around on Patrick's knee, full of beans and trying to make a grab for the light that was by the chair.

"No certainly not…." he replied, pulling her hand away. "No Ella, we don't destroy other people's houses and break their possessions" he scolded, trying to find a distraction from the tassels on the gold coloured lampshade. He looked around quickly and saw the bear she had been chewing back in Freddie's playpen. "Don't suppose you could….?" Patrick asked nodding down at the toy and hoping Tom might take the hint to retrieve it as he was closer. It and Angela seemed to have formed a bond judging by the bear's wet fur.

He got up and with a smile passed it to Angela who snatched it away and started earnestly chewing on the bear's foot again; yes, still damp from the first time around Tom noted as he picked it up.

"So when do you reckon it might be safe to venture back to our own homes then?" Tom asked as he settled back down opposite the pair. It wasn't the case that he had not enjoyed the company tonight, because he had, but that train trip from Birmingham was an utter nightmare, crammed into a strikingly hot carriage with far too many people and he was looking forward to going to bed having already resisted yawning several times.

"I imagine when the lady of the house reappears here" Patrick suggested, referring to Chummy. "At whatever hour that might be. You know what women can be like when they start talking…"

"Can't say I do very much!" Tom replied with a self-conscious laugh. "I only had my sisters to contend with and most of that passed me by…" True by the time his sisters were teenagers he had been long gone to Theological College and when he did return home, they seemed so suddenly embarrassed by the fact their brother was going to be a _vicar_ that they would barely acknowledge his presence under the same roof.

"Well", Patrick began, only half joking, "Just remember saying 'yes' will get you a long way with you when you do marry Trixie and putting the baby to bed once in a while will help too" he said, gesturing upstairs to where Peter was.

"Take it from a man who's done it twice?" Tom smiled although he saw the Doctor's face drop ever so slightly and regretted the half-joke.

"Perhaps more this time" Patrick replied hesitantly, Angela keen now to sit on the floor and as Patrick sat up again Tom could see a darkness in his eyes. "I have to confess much to my shame, particularly when Tim was Angela's age I did nothing but work. I'd go for days without seeing him awake and I certainly wasn't sitting in a friend's living room for the evening taking care of him. Helen did it all and I have to say I didn't realise how much she did".

"Do you regret that?"

"Significantly so" Patrick responded with a sigh watching Angela as she shuffled about on the floor. "I have an opportunity to mend it so to speak now and I intend to take that up".

"Trixie wants children immediately….." Tom threw out all of a sudden. That had been another stumbling block. _So much to do before then_ and he had no intentions of being an absent father notwithstanding his question to Patrick.

"You have the whole of your lives ahead of you" Patrick replied. "There is no need to rush anything, but I would say never let things run away on their own. Before you know it, you have lost what's around you and you'll wonder where it all went".

"Did you ever think you'd get married again?" Tom asked. He hadn't known Shelagh before, not really, and he would have to admit it did cause him to hesitate; knowing the vows she had taken and the promises she had made not so long ago herself and the whispers and stories that had floated around his parishioners that he could not help but hear.

Patrick laughed. "No" he replied shaking his head. "It was such a shock when Helen fell ill, everything went so quickly and with Timothy to cope with, no, another marriage, another _relationship_ , never entered my head. I thought maybe when he was 18 or had gone off into the world on his own; even married himself….. maybe then, but now? No…" he concluded with another shake of his head.

"I suppose you never know do you?" Tom asked, the question loaded when he thought of how life had unfolded this past year or so. Poplar, Trixie, the apologies and promises, the second engagement and now these thoughts that were rearing their ugly head again.

Patrick nodded. "Did I think I would marry a former Nun? Certainly not. Did I think we would go through the adoption process? No to that too".

"But you are glad that you did?"

"Entirely" Patrick smiled before he saw the hesitance on the other man's face. He knew enough of this situation from Shelagh that there had been stops and starts and uncertainty all along the way between him and Trixie but he really didn't want to interfere. "Are you having second thoughts?" he asked, sensing from all these questions that all was not well. He had twenty odd more years of life experience on him than the young Vicar and remembered his own nerves in the days leading up the wedding to Helen; such a grand affair that it was and there had been those times where it did seem easier to simply run in the opposite direction. Still though, if half of what he had heard on the grapevine about this young couple was true; his worries, no perhaps maybe concerns more like, of marrying Helen paled into insignificance.

Tom hesitated, not knowing really what to say. "Some days, I know it's the right thing" he began. Those were the days that he suddenly had the confidence to think that if they worked, _hard,_ together they could overcome almost anything. Yet…. "Except there are other days I am reminded of….reminded of Trixie's _troubles_ and I know I should be there to support her, but then I think, well what if it happens again? What if she goes down that road when we have young children to care of? Could I deal with that if I struggle with it now?" He had questioned his own strength far too many times already and whether he would have the will or patience, or indeed love, to cope if she relapsed to her old state.

"And what if something happens to those children?" Patrick asked, seeing Tom nod gently in response, at a loss for words. "Let me tell you something" Patrick began. "My grandfather – my father's father – a respectable man on the outside. University lecturer in Economics he was, but he'd have a whiskey bottle in his office drawer and one in his bedside cabinet. I'd go to visit and he'd look normal, act normal but there were odd things. Tone of voice; aggression, things that I realised later he said and did because he was in drink. My father and his brothers spent most of their childhood terrified of him or what they'd find when they came home from school. They were frightened of the very home that they thought was safe and I could tell my father never trusted him completely".

Tom considered his words. "That is what concerns me. I know she can have help and I know she is trying, but I don't want my children to grow up terrified to come home just in case Mum's had one too many. I know there's nothing wrong in enjoying yourself and the odd drink but if she finds herself dependent once….then what's to say it won't happened twice, a third time….and I have my responsibilities of the parish and to the parish too". He didn't want to say it, but he could hardly be seeing bestowing the word of the Lord, the moderation the Lord requires of God-fearing folk yet have a home life such as that, on tenterhooks…not knowing.

"And it causes you to hesitate….I can see that" Patrick replied, readily accepting the point. "You may love her indeed, but sometimes _liking_ someone and their habits is far more important for the relationship to blossom",

Tom was about to say something when he saw Peter walk down the stairs. "That was quick!" he commented with a strained smile that thankfully the host didn't notice. To some extent he was grateful for the interruption as things were getting far too close to home.

"Doesn't take much with him…." Peter smiled, having negotiated Angela who was crawling around the floor before he sat down. "Five minutes of Noddy and he was off..."

"I suppose reading him stories is a break…." Patrick smiled, having been there a few times himself with Angela these past few months and he had found really rather comforting to sit with her pointing through cartoon pictures after a long day.

"Well, I don't have to think about arrest rates, how full the cells were last night or the fact that I'm running a shift with two Constables short…" Peter laughed. "But no, wouldn't have it any other way". Patrick and Peter particularly knew how close things had got no so long ago so the older man knew precisely what the younger meant.

"No," Peter continued. "Makes you realise what's important. How much trust he has in me and Camilla to keep him safe, even though he doesn't realise it yet".

That was it; those were Tom's thoughts perfectly stored in one sentence. What if it happened again? How could he look his children in the eye and know they were brought into the world to trust yet not feel safe? How much did he have to think about and tonight's conversations were only compounding his doubts. How he thought they had sorted it all out now.

"Mind you I don't think we will ever get past Big Ears laughing at Noddy for his blue bonnet!" That book was ingrained in his brain and Peter was sure he could recite it from cover to cover if he were to try one night. "It's always the point in the book he can't stay awake any longer" he clarified to Tom who looked downright confused. Even Patrick couldn't remember that and the spoken word did not really appeal to Angela it seemed. Perhaps in time she might prefer more than her brightly coloured pictures.

"He'll be reading it to you before long!" Patrick quipped. "Tim's homework drives me up the wall".

"Thankfully a few years for that one!" Peter responded, dreading it if he was truthful. Maybe he could hand Mathematics and French over to Camilla and possibly Biology and Chemistry and leave him with English and Geography. Yes that would do. "I'm not looking forward to that…the joys of what you have to look forward to!" It was partially directed at Tom but a general comment on the status of his life too.

Patrick laughed quickly and nodded his head in agreement as all three heard a bang from next door and both men could see Peter curse silently. "Hopefully that won't wake him up…." he commented, listening for a second but it seemed to be all clear. He'd bitten his tongue with these new neighbours, banging and crashing about _knowing_ they had a baby in the house and Camilla had stopped him having a quiet word many a time.

"The slightest squeak wakes her up" Patrick responded gesturing at his daughter who was still chewing on the bear. "Even a creaking door..."

"Thunder and lightning still scares him…not much else though" Peter responded, seeing Tom sit back, unable to contribute to this talk between fathers but happy, genuinely, to listen. "Even though he will sit and watch it with Camilla and scare himself silly when he realises its thunder and lightening again….." For some reason as he spoke his attention was turned to Angela.

"Is she alright?" Peter asked suddenly, seeing her staring at the pattern on the carpet and Tom, distracted from his own thoughts by the question, looked down to her too. She had that same look on her face that Fred had every once in a while when something inevitable was about to happen and it usually involved one end or the other or both.

Patrick leant down and picked her up, turning her round to look at her face. She did look a little pale.

"Now then" he started, settling his daughter on his knee. "What do we have here?"

Angela looked up to him with big blue eyes, coupled with that determined look she still had, and proceeded to throw up all over his brand new trousers.


	6. Chapter 6

"Who was that?" Trixie asked, seeing Shelagh return from the hallway. As soon as Trixie's doubts began to be aired, they had been interrupted by the ringing of Vicarage telephone and Shelagh had been closest to answer it.

"Peter" Shelagh replied, stepping over the corner of the coffee table to return to her seat next to the fireplace.

"My Peter?" Chummy asked, alarmed as her stomach dropped, wondering immediately if Freddie was alright and if she should be rushing home for any reason.

Shelagh however was quite calm about it, nodded and sat down crossing her legs over and settling again. "Angela's managed to regurgitate her supper all over Patrick and they thought it best I know…"

Chummy stopped herself from laughing, relieved in a way it wasn't her son and tried to ignore the turning in her insides at her husband's unexpected telephone call. "Fred did that so many times…He took significant exception to one of Peter's jumpers, if I remember rightly. Every time he wore it Freddie would take one look and …!" She gestured throwing her arms out in front of her to demonstrate. Peter had finally consigned that jumper to the back of the wardrobe and out of his son's sight; half jokes between husband and wife that it must be the pattern that put their son off.

"Well he's has gone off to bed quite happily. Peter told me to tell you. 'Wiped out' were his words!" Shelagh replied with a smile. The issue of the boy's knee was going to be left until Mumma was home and he didn't really seem to be suffering from it so Peter had decided to wait and not worry her. "I said I would be home later but if she was upset again to telephone again".

Chummy smiled. "I think between a doctor, a policeman and a vicar they can manage a vomiting child don't you?"

"You would think!" Shelagh joked. "Peter said she was fine afterwards so I don't think I have much to rush home for. She was rather wide-eyed for that time of night he tells me. It will be over-excitement or she's just rushed her supper as usual".

Chummy nodded, deciding to change the subject as she was relatively sure Trixie didn't want to hear about their toddler's foul habits and she could see her quiet face. "So are you going to set a date?" Chummy asked, seeing Trixie shake her head.

"We have to work around his parish commitments. The earliest seems to be probably the week after the Harvest Festival but…." She shrugged her shoulders, not missing how many caveats she had used as she tucked her legs underneath herself, needing to feel small and unobtrusive.

 _'_ _Seems to be'_

 _'_ _Probably'_

"That's quite the time away" Shelagh noted, flashing a glance at the other mother in the room.

"Yes" Trixie replied apprehensively, covering her knee up with her skirt, feeling a tremor in her hand. "He has that many weddings over the Summer; there's christenings and funerals to come, not to mention all his charitable events…." It did sound like a string of excuses, even she could see that although she was sure, well relatively sure, that Tom had not meant it any other way that telling her how busy his Summer was becoming. She thought.

"Surely he can find a single day to get married in amongst that lot?" Chummy asked, realising the question was blunt after the event but all these changes and doubts made her wonder if the Vicar was unsure himself and was sending the bride to be mixed messages.

"I nearly said that" Trixie replied for once when they conversed deciding to hold her tongue and this time regretting it more than ever. That was until the doubts began to creep in again and maybe a few months away might give her time; or perhaps no date at all for the foreseeable future? "Besides the end of September is awfully close to yours Chummy". Trixie knew it was a feeble response – a clash of wedding anniversaries – but it was the only thing she could think of.

"That doesn't matter. It's not exclusive to us" Chummy replied. "We chose that day because it was precious to Peter's family and after Shelagh and Patrick's grand event…..!"

"An unexploded bomb a few days before your wedding day isn't exactly something you plan on happening!" Shelagh laughed back at her. "But actually no, I did think of Spring before he suggested Christmas Eve. Turns out I had my way after all!"

"I'm…" Trixie began, thinking and deciding to say it after all. "I'm actually quite glad we don't have a date yet".

The two other women looked up at her, frowning.

"Bumps on the road and all that old girl?" Chummy responded, her voice low and sympathetic. She'd had enough worries herself before Peter but perhaps she had been deluded into thinking Trixie's confidence was unshakeable all these years and was now seeing the girl underneath. It seemed that she had missed an awful lot when she was away at the Lodge, reliant on letters and Patsy's occasional visits. Peter was a useless gossip as she knew he tended to close his ears to women chattering endlessly on so she only got half a story from him most of the time.

Trixie nodded quickly and tried to swallow back the tears that were threatening. "I have to be sure" she began, mind whirring. "I thought I was sure".

"You aren't backing out?" Shelagh asked seeing Trixie look up at her; not really knowing the answer. "I know it's daunting and I know you've said you don't think….. Just getting married is daunting, never mind all of the other bits. You're bound to be apprehensive".

Trixie breathed heavily. "I know you'll keep my secrets" she began. The things they had told each other over the years were incredible. "I do love him, I really do, but there's something….something that's making me…..oh!" Trixie breathed again. "Talking about wedding dresses and wedding nights is easy. Talking about it. It's the _doing_ of everything else that comes after it. Knowing it's until my dying day that I have to keep my promises and I am really not sure I can".

She knew these past months – now she was sober to gain insight into what she had done to herself and those around her – that everything had almost slid away from her. Her health; her job. Tom. Despite all the kindnesses and understanding and indeed help that she had been given, she understood why Sister Julienne had to demote her, knew why she was now supervised on night calls and knew why the girls were reluctant to take up their nights in or indeed nights out again for fear of what they may uncover.

"We can't make your mind up for you" Chummy responded. "I think Shelagh and me both know how lucky we've been and we have three children that make us realise how worth the worry everything was".

Shelagh nodded. "Tim is such a good boy. He could have resented me. Could have hated me for taking Patrick's attention away from him, but there's never been a word of it and I am grateful. Freddie and Angela are gifts from Heaven. I think we speak from experience Trixie that it is…"

"That's my whole point" Trixie interrupted her. "I couldn't look after myself when I let it take over. What happens if I slip again? When I have a husband? Children?" She hesitated. "I don't want make him unhappy and break my promises or hurt anyone else who's wholly innocent in it all".

"And you shouldn't be making yourself unhappy either Trixie" Chummy responded. "What does Sister Julienne always tell us when we look after our mothers?"

"Trust your gut instinct" Trixie said. That was the one abiding thing that she always remembered from her first conversation with the Sister as she sat nervously in the old Nonnatus' sitting room. Trust that feeling that sits in your chest.

"Exactly" Chummy said. She had had that conversation too and was only really learning now herself just how much it meant.

"Mine is saying everything is so terribly wrong about it all" the blonde nurse replied. "I think….I think I drank more to try to eradicate….It was just something that I couldn't place that made me think that something wasn't quite right….Everything seemed so much brighter after a drink or two and I relaxed, but afterwards it made me feel ten times worse". She licked her lips. "The local Vicar can't have an alcoholic for a wife. Even one that might be sober now..."

"I know we said September is an awful long way away, but what if you waited longer?" Shelagh suggested; wondering if a further pause might all those doubts to shake themselves away. "Christmas? If you think you need the time….."

"I don't want to string him along either" Trixie sighed. She'd wondered if all this pontificating was simply nerves or something more insipid lurking inside her but either way marrying him tomorrow, or marrying him in a year, neither seemed right.

"But in the long run waiting a few months longer could save you from so much." Shelagh surmised.

"I don't think I trust myself" Trixie concluded, knowing how easily she could fall again. One bad word between them; one incident and she knew how quick she could stumble backwards. Alcohol had become her solace; the thing she ran to when the world seemed to be conspiring against her and she knew deep down it could again. The temptation was everywhere. "I don't know if he trusts me".

"He asked you to marry him again didn't he?" Chummy questioned. How she had been there herself; perhaps not in those precise circumstances, but Peter still proposed to her again even if she had hurt him and their bridges had been built really rather quickly. This was a different matter now.

"Yes, but it's like there is an invisible obstacle and I don't know if he knows it's there" Trixie replied, tangling her fingers together in worry. "I need to be sure of myself first. Before that I can't marry him".

"Peter was an escape" Chummy said suddenly. "I love him to the ends of the earth - always have and always will - and I can't imagine anyone else, but he was my way out too. He was my freedom". She didn't want to say that even now, years later so sure of his devotion, that sometimes those old feelings would bite at her and she'd wonder why he'd stuck by her. He had been her liberation though to be herself and have her life the way she wanted it.

"Your family though Chummy?" Trixie replied, having been by the girl's side all through those years now. Enough trouble she had with her own parents, but Chummy too had seen an inescapable divide.

"I had so little to lose" she replied sadly, twisting her bracelet around. "Pa has never met Peter or Freddie yet. Mater only saw Freddie for a few weeks before she died".

"It didn't feel like it at the time, but Patrick was my escape too" Shelagh continued. "I thought I'd chosen my life but suddenly, being so ill, being faced so keenly with, well, something that could have _taken_ my life. That, and Patrick…. My eyes were forced open by facing..." She couldn't say the word even though 'death' was teetering on her tongue, "...and I knew my future was elsewhere". She had to grab at life and that was Patrick.

"You see?" Trixie began, eyes pleading with her friends. "I don't want this to be wrong. I don't want to have to find my escape in a few months or years; wondering every single day if what I did wasn't the right path to take".

"We can only support you Trixie. As your friends. No-one else can decide for you. Tom certainly can't" Shelagh continued, hoping the girl was truly listening to their words. There had been times when she had wished, exiled almost before she married from her old friends, that she had someone she could ventilate her feelings to. Sister Julienne had been a mother figure to her, no doubt, but sometimes a word with another married woman who understood what it was like to have a husband was all she needed. In Chummy she found that and she hoped that Trixie was finding it too.

"I know" Trixie responded. "I have to decide myself. For myself".

Trixie saw the other two women nod; Shelagh about to say something else when the telephone rang out again in the hallway.

"I'll get it" Chummy said, standing up. "One bets it's Peter again with another update!" The other two saw her leave the room and gently close the door behind her, hearing her pick the telephone up and engage in conversation with whoever was on the other end.

Shelagh smiled apprehensively at Trixie. "You _know_ we'll support you regardless of what you do" she emphasised. "I had all of your support and I do expect to give it back".

"I know you do" Trixie replied quietly. "There's just so much to consider. So enormous a decision. I don't even know if Tom feels the same way". She knew she was repeating herself but there were so many contradictory things running around her head that they needed to work their way through.

"Then talk to him. It's your only way to know".

Trixie nodded as the sitting room door opened again. "Who was it?" Trixie asked, thinking it mustn't be about Freddie or Angela as Chummy had half a smile on her face and didn't have her coat in her hand.

"A Mr Lilley wanting Tom" she replied, sitting down. The name didn't mean a thing to Trixie, but she listened anyway. "He wanted to speak to Tom about a wedding. One had to pretend I was Tom's housekeeper! One wouldn't think the vicar would want a scar on his reputation of a woman answering his telephone this time of night!"

Shelagh was the only one smiling back.

"You see?" Trixie pleaded. "Scars on his reputation? That's what I mean... _I'd_ be a scar on his reputation…I can't do it..."


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you sure your wife won't mind?" Patrick asked plugging the hair dryer into the wall as he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

Peter laughed at the site of the local general practitioner and the damp patch on the lap of his trousers from their attempt at cleaning him up after Angela's incident. "No" Peter replied, shaking his head. "It's a good job I had to change the fuse on the plug when it blew the other day otherwise I'd never have known where she put the thing".

Patrick stood to one side, holding his damp trouser leg away from himself, and switched the bright sky blue dryer on. "At least it'll take the edge off!" he laughed over the noise as Peter left him too it taking one step into the sitting room when he heard crying from above his head.

"Is that Fred?" Tom asked, Angela now asleep on the settee next to him, propped up on a cushion and seemingly over her unexpected event. Peter nodded, knowing that Fred having gone off like he did could well have been too good to be true. "Not sure how you cope!" Tom commented, wondering about the phrase 'never a truer word spoken in jest' as the Sergeant turned to attend to his son.

"Me neither!" Peter remarked, turning tail and taking the stairs two at a time. Tom heard his feet retreat and the whirr of the hairdryer in the kitchen and looked to his side. Angela asleep, delicate eyelashes fluttering against her pale skin and a smile playing on her lips. Tom wondered if she was dreaming. Such simple things you had at that age, no worries of the world upon your shoulders and it struck him how much this little girl relied on the adults around her. A picture on top of the mantelpiece caught his eye. A simple black and white photograph of a newborn baby - it must have been Freddie - fast asleep wrapped up tight in an older woman's arms; the look of utter devotion on this lady's face astounding him. Perhaps that was Peter's mother Tom thought as he certainly didn't recognise her. Again, so starkly laid out before him; two toddlers without a care in the world and the responsibility of Shelagh and Patrick and Peter and Chummy stretched out before him. Tom sighed, still hearing the hairdryer and Patrick talking to himself in the kitchen, not for the first time realising that matters ought to be brought to a head. Now before it did become far too late and there little creatures like Angela and Freddie involved in his life.

Walking into the small back bedroom upstairs, Peter found Freddie sitting up in his cot, having pulled his pyjama leg up and not so happily poking the carpet burn on his knee. It looked angry and red and Peter wished the boy had let Patrick take a proper look at it before Camilla came home.

"Fred" Peter warned as the teary eyed boy looked up at him. "No playing with your sore knee".

"Want Mumma" the boy replied with a scowl on his face, standing up on the mattress, the trouser leg falling back down and stretching his arms out to his father. "Mumma go home now".

"Mumma will be home soon", Peter replied, picking him up and pressing a kiss to his temple, trying to avoid knocking his knee. "Daddy promises Mumma will be here soon". He pulled Fred's striped blanket from his cot and wrapped it around him tightly. Fred always seemed to like being cocooned even when he was a tiny baby and he began to calm almost immediately. "Come on", Peter said quietly in his ear. "Come downstairs. We'll wait with Angela for Mumma to _go home_ ".

By the time Peter got downstairs Patrick had returned to the sitting room and he was standing with his daughter in his arms, now snoozing on his shoulder. "I do believe I had best take this young lady home" he began, "before she decides to grace us with another display". He had also noticed the time and Shelagh had said she would be back before nine so he needed to leave quick sharp. "Can I offer a lift home, Tom?"

Tom shook his head. "It's out of your way. No, thank you, but I'll walk".

Patrick nodded and shook the other men's hands, seeing the Vicar's downcast face and realising he could not be persuaded. Peter was more than occupied with Freddie who was whimpering for his mother in his ear but walked with him to the door and they said their goodbyes.

"It's starting to rain out there…" Peter began as returned and sat down adjusting his son onto his knee. "I could give you a lift back in the car if you want? I'm going in no particular direction".

"No, no, no" Tom replied hesitantly. "I'd erm….Coast clear and all of that back at the Vicarage".

Peter frowned. "That bad?"

Tom sighed. "We were talking when you were upstairs with Freddie", he began. He had taken on board what the doctor had said, but sometimes you just need that confirming opinion. "What did you think when you knew Trixie and me where engaged?"

Peter had never expressed any feelings either way before about it; not even to Camilla as it wasn't really his business to comment upon. "I think you just have to find what makes you happy. Truly happy when all the rubbish has been packed away", he replied. Sometimes fence sitting was the best place to be but it was the truth.

"Does your wife make you happy?" Tom asked. He would speak to newly engaged couples all the time about the sanctity of marriage when they came to book the church, full of light and spring in their step, but it was a question that he only realised tonight that he should have asked himself long before now. Truly asked himself; not just caught up in the idea or the concept of a wedding date, but a marriage to last the rest of his life.

"Immensely" Peter replied unable to stop the smile that cracked his face. "I can't say we don't have our disagreements because we do and I think it would be unhealthy if we didn't, but underneath it all, I'd drop everything as long as she was happy".

"Would she do that for you?" There is was again; his doubts about Trixie and just precisely how far she would go to support him in his endeavours. He know that the Noakes' had been off to Sierra Leone before the baby was born and also knew it was the lady of the partnership's dream more than his companion here. It still begged the question though.

"Yes", Peter responded firmly although he would admit he was slightly unnerved at the question. "I honestly believe she would. When I was studying for my exams she'd be up all hours with me and she never said a bad word about it. I think she knew more than me in the end and I know I couldn't have got through it without her. She talked me down from the ceiling that many times!" Peter knew he had been climbing the walls and reflecting it was only anxiety that did, but she was patient and calm and he could simply not have asked for more. She'd said more that once it was her attempt at 'pay back' for Sierra Leone; even though Peter had had half an inclination to suggest they stay if it wasn't for Freddie.

Tom considered his words carefully. "I'm grateful that Trixie has good friends around her".

"Trixie has always been a good friend to Camilla. I'm glad of that" Peter paused for a moment. "She needs someone to talk to". He would easily class her as his best friend, but that were some things that the Sergeant would freely admit he never understood about women and it made no difference that she was his wife. "But they are all such good friends to each other. The girls, the Sisters, all of them".

"They are" Tom considered. Perhaps Trixie might need that support in time to come.

"Underneath it all, I know that when it came to it, we love each other and with that you can get through anything" Peter replied.

Tom nodded and wished he believed that too. He did love her; that seemed more than obvious but the trouble was it was all too consuming. The trouble, the responsibility – at work and at home, the fact that there was something underneath that was just simply _not right no matter how much he professed to, indeed, love her._ Perhaps he _didn't_ after all if he was so sorely tried by these struggles. _  
_

Half an hour later, Freddie now calm and asleep, Tom said his goodbyes and with a heavy heart he trudged back to the Vicarage on foot hoping he wouldn't bump into Shelagh or Chummy, the latter more likely than the former, on his way.

As he glanced at his watch, it would be too late for Trixie to still be there anyway. With what was on his lips, perhaps that was a good thing.

"Trixie?" Shelagh replied quietly to her friends statement. "You of all people are not any of those words you would describe yourself!"

"One has never heard a truer word" Chummy said, putting her tea cup down on the low table. "Yes, you've had problems, but we are all still here and no day is absolute roses no matter how much we sometimes try and put on a façade. You are taking up help. Its not as though you are truly wallowing and you do want to get better. You have the will to make yourself better and be the person you want to be, you know that. Shelagh and I found what we wanted. If Tom is what you want…"

"He is " Trixie whimpered in response. "But I'm not good enough for him. He can do so very much better than a drunk..."

Shelagh shuffled forward in her seat, resting her palm on the blonde girls knee. "You Beatrix Franklin are a beautiful, caring human being. Tom sees that. You are a wonderful nurse, but you are not human if you don't have your doubts and weaknesses. It's how you now go about repairing the situation that has been created". A thought sprung into her mind. "He came back to you remember?"

Trixie digested Shelagh's words carefully. Yes, he did come back didn't he? After it all, after all she had done, he did ask her to marry him again, didn't he? And, when it came to it, she had had no hesitation in saying 'yes' at the time. Now though, she wondered if she had been caught up in the emotion and moment of their reconciliation that she did not think it properly through.

"We all have to fight to find our strength old girl" Chummy continued. "Whatever you do, you must resolve what is in here…" she said tapping the side of her head, "before you can decide you where you are going to place your life".

Trixie nodded, determined not to cry. "I want to be all I can" she began. "I want to be better in every way I can be and be good for him".

"Then you have your start" Shelagh replied, squeezing her friends knee. "And we will help".

"We will. All we can" Chummy emphasized. "Day or night, the house is always open to you. So is Nonnatus and you must come to us rather than sink into any kind of despair again. But, the ultimate decision is yours. Do what you think will make you happy, down underneath it all. Have something you can work for once you have your strength. Yes?"

Their goodbyes said, neither Shelagh nor Chummy were convinced the words of tonight were over they stood just under the bridge as Nonnatus loomed behind them; the vicarage tucked to its side, the only light being the street lamp above their heads giving the ground a gentle golden glow.

"I daren't telephone Peter to come and get me" Chummy said suddenly, shivering slightly as the rain lightly tapped around them. "The baby will be asleep... Well he should be and he certainly won't appreciate being dragged all the way here. Even in the car!" she added with an apprehensive laugh.

"Doesn't Peter worry?" Shelagh asked, knowing that Chummy had twice the distance to get home than she did to the flat above the Nursing Home and the Constable seemed like the kind of person who would put himself out to ensure someone else was safe; his wife more than anything or anyone else.

"Of course he does" Chummy smiled, knowing he would never confess it to her in her wildest dreams though. "He'll at least be waiting up if one isn't mistaken, even if Freddie is all tucked up. So will Patrick I imagine?"

Shelagh laughed as they began their walk to the bus stop. "If Angela hasn't been sick on him again he will be! Otherwise she'll be waiting for me to bath her!"

Trixie pushed the net curtain side on the sitting room window and watched the pair as they walked away and out of sight, taking a glance up at Nonnatus; its lights dim. There was something leaden in her heart that weighed her down; wondering what she had done wrong or perhaps what these two other women had done right but yet, those words that had tumbled from their mouths were right and took a deep breath, letting the lace curtain fall from her fingers and settle quietly.

No, she would wait here for Tom rather than run across the court yard to Nonnatus and tell him just that.

Tell him that she would do all within her power to be the wife he wanted her to be and assure him she would get better; that he would and could have her faith and trust from this day forward.

Yes, she would wait until he got home and do just that.

FIN


End file.
